


My body is home

by StarberryCupcake



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body Positivity, Cosette/Eponine becoming friends, Eating Disorders, Feminist Themes, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, International Women's Day, Racism, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Slurs, Street Harassment, amputee musichetta, bisexual eponine, body issues, fatphobia, plus size cosette, trans woman bahorel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 01:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3510455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarberryCupcake/pseuds/StarberryCupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cosette and Éponine have always lived with self-confidence issues, dealing with their own bodies and learning to embrace them. After years apart, they re-unite to find in each other the kind of girl they were never to be. And, despite their apparent and notably physical differences, they realize they have more in common than they ever imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My body is home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ibbyliv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ibbyliv/gifts).



> This work was written with a lot of love and care for [Ibbyliv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ibbyliv/), after dealing with a day of body negativity. Cosette's experiences are extremely and unashamedly inspired by my own, as a plus size (fat, let's say it) Latina, and Éponine's are a representation of other people's experiences and the issues we were discussing with [Ibbyliv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ibbyliv/). I'll add more about that on the end notes, but I want to clarify that this is as based in reality as possible, but if you feel I've been disrespectful, wrong or feel personally affected or offended by some or all of the content of this fic, I apologize and I urge you to say it to me. I'm incredibly weary of publishing this, but I feel it's important, especially because it's for someone I really want to cheer up. This fic touches very difficult body issues and I encourage you to consider whether you're up to reading about them before you do.  
> The title of this fic is from Mary Lambert's song "Body Love".

Cosette would be lying if she said that she wasn't intimidated by Éponine. Because she was.

Sometimes you can actually sense when someone doesn't like you, it’s like an awkward aura, a heaviness in the air around you. It’s clearly stated in words that aren't said and greetings that aren't replied to. And Cosette felt that between herself and Éponine.

They didn't share the most cheerful past. They had lived in the same neighborhood once, when Cosette was very young and her mother was alive, and Éponine’s treatment towards her, which had initially been friendly, had later become more and more negative. By the time her mother passed away and her papa had adopted her, Éponine had become a bully and Cosette had never known why. As far as everyone was concerned, Cosette’s name was Piggy, fatty or many other variations of the term, thanks to Éponine’s persistence in them.

By the time they re-encountered as adults, Éponine’s treatment towards her had changed drastically. Now, Éponine barely even spoke to her. Only when she really had to.

Éponine had become a very pretty girl, the kind of girl Cosette knew she could never be. The kind of girl Cosette had seen in magazines while growing up, wearing clothes she could never wear. She could wear shorts without minding if they were to roll up her thighs. She could run down the stairs without worrying how everything bounced around her. She could wear high-waisted skirts without wondering if her rolls would swallow a part of them. She could find cute lingerie her size without having to retort to the internet. She could wear skirts without leggings, not having to worry about her thighs being on fire at the end of the day. She could post pictures online without strangers straight-up assuming she was unhealthy. Cosette had wondered some times, throughout her life, what it would feel like to be a slim girl. She wondered what it would feel not to be the chubby friend who other girls looked at apologetically when they mentioned “they felt fat”, as if assuming it might be a touchy subject for her. She wondered what it would feel to have friends you could share clothes with or go shopping with, finding lots of things to try on. She wondered what it would feel not to hear others whispering that she may be “passable for a fat girl”. She wondered what it would feel to have characters she could dress up in Halloween without having some asshole in the party refer to her as “the fat version of-“ to point his friends in her direction. She wondered many times what it would feel to fit in what society considered a “normal body”.

But, don’t misunderstand her, Cosette never felt ashamed of being big. Or fat, she didn't mind calling herself fat, it didn't bother her. Cosette wasn't worried about her looks. She was never going to be thin, because genetically and metabolically, it was impossible. And, being frank, she didn't want to deny her Latina hips, because they were her mom’s. And she didn't want to deny her rolls, because she had spent many years learning that she didn't need to wait until she didn't have them anymore to consider herself a worthy human being. And she didn't want to accept whatever piece of bad-intentioned comments guys made to her, assuming she wouldn't be able to do better. Cosette was more than ok with who she was, even if sometimes it wasn't easy. 

It wasn't easy, especially looking at how beautiful Éponine was. Her dark skin glowed with the sun, it didn't get red easily like Cosette’s. Her hair was naturally curly, she didn't need a hair dryer to shape it, like Cosette’s. Her smile looked effortlessly pretty in pictures, not like Cosette’s chubby cheeked giggles. Éponine sat in stools with ease, she didn't stumble around them like Cosette did. Éponine was the girl Cosette would never be. And Cosette had always known it, since she called her names when they were kids.

And, even if she had done a lot on her own, to accept herself as she was and embrace it, meeting Les Amis had helped greatly in her journey towards self-love. Especially, becoming such good friends with Bahorel. As a trans woman with a past of eating disorders, Bahorel had become incredibly knowledgeable as an advocate for the body positivity movement. Enjolras, Jehan and Feuilly, as non binary folk, talked a lot about the lack of healthcare opportunities for trans people, but Bahorel always reminded them how important it was to acknowledge the difficulty body dysmorphia and/or gender dysphoria could present when overcoming eating disorders and when dealing with the cisnormative and thinnormative socially idealized beauty standards, _along with transitioning_. Bahorel had gone through more than Cosette could imagine and the first time she had made Cosette feel understood as a fat girl, they had both cried. And Cosette rarely ever did. Bahorel had held her through it and Cosette understood that they were already becoming good friends.

With Éponine, though, it wasn't the same. They were too different to be friends. But, seemingly, Éponine was the only one there when Cosette arrived at the park, ready for the meeting. She was already there, sitting crosslegged (some people could actually cross one leg over another and keep it there, effortlessly, for an extended period of time, which was something Cosette’s short legs and big thighs had never allowed her to do with ease). She was wearing jean shorts, which gave her enough space to move freely and didn't cling to her butt cheeks like they would to Cosette. She had a beautiful plaited shirt, a baggy one, without having to modify it not to look like an unforgiving tent on her, like Cosette had to. And she could actually keep the buttons closed without her bra peeking out, which Cosette could never accomplish with shirts her size. She was wearing natural-looking soft make up, with nude lips and pink cheeks that made her skin look like it glowed with her. 

But, they barely spoke to each other. And they were going to have to wait together.

Cosette sighed. 

* * *

She saw her before she even reached the street. Who wouldn't, she was an impact to the eyes. She knew exactly how to coordinate clothes to look how she wanted, and she used _themes_ , for goodness' sakes. Éponine could barely put a short and a shirt together, Cosette planned out _themed outfits_ to showcase the curvy body she embraced and owned with confidence.

Today’s being, of fucking course, an urban take on Rosie the Riveter. Because Cosette could actually accomplish that. She had tight jeans, or, at least, they looked tight in her prominent curves. Because Cosette had an actual butt, unlike Éponine, who seemed to have been born without one, and her thighs were embraced by the fabric as if it was painted over her skin. Her blue jeans were complimented with a blue-to-light-blue ombre shirt that she tied in a knot as a crop top, unapologetically revealing her tummy, which so many her size would hide, and accentuating the fact that she had a waist, a clear waist, and actual round and prominent boobs. Rather great boobs, actually. And Éponine knew when to appreciate a good set of boobs; she could appreciate all boobs, except her own. Éponine had been born with very little of them to begin with. She had tied a red bandana, crowning her luscious long dark blonde hair, which fell in controlled waves around her chubby, adorable face. And her full red lips and dark smokey eye makeup complimented her outfit, as did her amazing star-shaped earrings. She was a pin-up plus-size version of Rosie the Riveter and could make a fucking calendar with all her amazing themed outfits, for heaven's sakes.

It was probably karma acting upon her. For having called her a pig when they were kids, she thought. Éponine never really minded that Cosette was a big girl, not personally, she just felt it was her leeway. Cosette was great in school, talented in many things and her mother actually cared for her, she didn't beat her up and called her a bitch in front of her friends, like Éponine’s did. Cosette was smart for her age and grown-ups were in awe with her. Éponine felt that, seeing what society mandated in media around her, the thing she had that Cosette didn't was being thin. Because being thin was good, and being fat was bad. Ariel was thin and Ursula was fat. Alice was thin and the Queen of Hearts was fat. If the one thing Cosette wasn't good at was that, then Éponine was going to remind her of it, as her mother and father reminded her of her own mistakes, every day and without mercy. Because it just wasn't fair any other way.

Éponine grew up and learned a lot. She learned what feminism was. She learned what internalized misogyny was. She learned what the body positivity movement was. She was learning, very slowly, step by step, to look at herself in the mirror and not see the issues, as if she was a cyborg with faulty mechanisms. She was learning to see her small breasts and not feel like she was less of a human being for them, less of a person, like men around her had made her feel when they looked at her and laughed, calling her ‘one of the boys’ and pointing out their disappointment, as if she was born to accommodate their preference. She was learning to see her slim, bony figure, always unchanging, and stop seeing it as not enough here or not enough there, or as the shadow of what could have been, in another life. She was learning to see her small butt and tiny hips and not hear the slurs and see the disapproving glances of men who tried to grope her in bars, asking later whether she was indeed a girl, as if her physique had anything to do with what gender identity she actually identified as. She was learning to see her frizzy curls and not feel like she could never be in control of them, as she wasn't in control of the family whose heritage had provided them. She was learning, but it was difficult.

Musichetta had helped. And the rest of the Amis too, but 'Chetta was special. Musichetta, amazingly gorgeous Musichetta, with her beautiful softly curved body and her caramel skin, with her gorgeously painted and hand crafted prosthetic leg, a piece that had every inch of her heart carved and drawn into, along with the signatures of her two beloved boys. Musichetta, who had gone through so much pain and who had battled with the image of the mirror reflecting a portion of who she had been, after that terrible accident in which a drunk driver had taken away a piece of her that was never to return. Musichetta, who had found herself again with time and patience, who had battled physical and emotional pain, who called herself the Queen of Pirates by the time they met her and who completely enamored Joly and Bossuet. The same Musichetta who had called her beautiful upon seeing her. And Éponine was not looking for approval, she really was not, but the honesty and genuine kindness in Musichetta’s voice was enough to convey a world of unsaid compliments. 

Marius hadn't helped. Unknowingly. Because just when Éponine was trying to unlearn her need of romantic interests’ acceptance (whether or not they were cis males) to feel appreciated, she fell for clueless Marius Pontmercy. The same Marius who had called her pretty. The same Marius who had helped her out when she needed it. The same Marius who had encouraged her, unknowingly, to trust in her appearance and seem confident. The same Marius who was invariably, evidently, falling for Cosette, with each passing day. 

Cosette, the curvy, luscious, large and in charge, plus size bomb-shell Cosette, in all her Latina glory. Not the mixed Korean-African heritage that Éponine had (which had been incredibly confusing to explain when people deemed her “exotic” when they were interested and “weird” when they weren't). That very Cosette was crossing the street right that instant.

Éponine sighed. 

* * *

“Get out of the way, fatty!” the man in the car shouted at Cosette “You’re going to break my car!”

“Well, maybe you should stop driving like an asshole to avoid that” Cosette responded with all the decorum she could muster, not even looking at him, but with her fists tightly shut.

“Fucking fat bitch!” he shouted, while he accelerated and drove away, with the same frenzy he had driven by the red light in the first place.

When Cosette arrived where Éponine was, she looked slightly apologetic. As if she was aware that it wasn't her fault yet she couldn't avoid feeling ashamed for what had happened.

“I wish you had superpowers so you could actually break his fucking car in two” Éponine huffed, avoiding Cosette’s gaze.

Cosette smiled.

“Believe it or not, it’s not the first time I've been shouted that on the street, it also happened with a guy on a bike” she explained.

“If it makes you feel better…or worse and angrier with the patriarchy, I don’t know…” Éponine began “On the way here, a guy shouted at me ‘call me when you grow some tits, Nice-Legs’” she huffed.

A silence ensued, in which Éponine still averted Cosette’s gaze, wondering if she had done wrong in letting her know of something as private, as painful as that. Because yes, Éponine had been learning to love herself, but she didn't like to be reminded of the feelings of insufficiency that comments on her small breasts brought to light.

“If it means anything to you, I think you look beautiful today” Cosette moved awkwardly on her spot in front of the bench where Éponine was sitting on “and always, for that matter, but those shorts and that shirt look really good on you, and your skin really glows so beautifully under the sun”

Éponine turned to her in awe. Cosette was looking at her with those big, round, honest eyes of hers, a sweet yet nervous smile on her lips. _She meant it_.

“Why…why are you saying this?” Éponine asked, with a piercing gaze.

“Because I honestly believe…” Cosette begun.

“No, what I mean is…” Éponine interrupted “…after all I put you through, all the names I called you when we were kids, making you feel bad for who you were and what you looked like…” Éponine’s breath caught “You can’t have forgotten…”

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget” Cosette said, losing her smile, and Éponine feared she might have done wrong in bringing those painful memories back “And I was angry at you for it, _very_ angry. One day I was prepared to march to school and beat you up, that’s how angry I was.”

“Why didn't you?” Éponine asked.

“Because when I got there, I saw your mom was already doing that” Cosette said hesitantly “And I was scared. Scared for you, for me and, more than anything, scared of your mom” Cosette looked down “So I ran to mine”

She stopped for a few seconds, either gathering her words carefully or trying not to cry.

“She was already very weak and in bed, but she called me to her and talked to me. She told me that I shouldn't let you make me feel bad about myself yet I shouldn't turn against you either. She said that it wasn't really either of our faults and that if her own workmates had sided with her, if they had stuck together as women to fight for their rights in the maquiladora…she said there was power in unity and splitting us up was better for everyone but us. She said you had the right to learn better, to be treated better, and that I shouldn't see you as my enemy just because we were different. It was difficult for me to understand at first, yet in time, I did.” She smiled “I didn't have the time to talk to you then, because I left a few days afterwards, and when I saw you again, I felt too awkward to do so.”

“Your mom was very kind” Éponine said, not knowing how to respond properly.

She always assumed that Fantine was angry at her, for everything she put Cosette through. She always assumed that all those times she tried talking to her parents, she was trying to defend Cosette, but it had never made sense because she always smiled apologetically at her, as if she couldn't do enough. Now she understood it wasn't Cosette she was trying to defend but her. She wanted to end things by Éponine receiving a better life, not by punishing her. Éponine didn't feel she deserved it.

“I’m sorry for everything” Éponine felt her eyes blurring and cursed herself “I’m sorry for your mom and for letting my own insecurities get the best of me”

“I can’t blame you for that, it’d be terribly hypocritical of me” she sat beside Éponine on the bench "It's not like my insecurities had never done so for me, too"

“I think you’re beautiful too, Cosette…” Éponine blushed “And it’s just an objective observation, don’t get all bff on me just yet”

Cosette laughed. She had a musical laughter. Of course she did. Éponine laughed too. 

“Thank you” she turned to her fully, still sitting on the bench “Maybe this could be a subject we could propose in the upcoming meetings, though, I think it would be great. We could even bring people in, so they can share their experiences…”

“What subject?” Éponine asked, confused “Girls saying other girls they’re beautiful instead of hating them for having what we don’t have?”

“Kind of.” Cosette continued “Beauty standards and their influence in our development and self-acceptance” she smirked “I could wear a white crop top and leggings with horizontal stripes, just to fuck up the plus size rules”

Éponine laughed.

“Then I won’t wear a bra, I’ll use something with cleavage and I’ll wear baggy pants that’ll make my ass look even smaller than it actually is” she snorted “It sounds even more fun than I thought”

“Bahorel will love this” Cosette took out her cellphone, a strange thing with a decora case filled with candy reproductions that made it look more edible than electronic, and a charm with the shape of a tiny lark “She’ll be thrilled...if we can make it an event, she could have her own panel about eating disorders and bring professionals she knows from her volunteering work to help out.”

“And ‘Chetta could talk about how it affects amputees, how it is to reconcile with your own body and deal with the alienation standard body images cause.” She took out her cellphone, a black case with a wolf’s silhouette on it “She could even dictate a workshop to personalize prosthetics and coordinate them with fashion, like she does.” She smiled “You could totally dictate a fashion class, though, you’re pretty fucking remarkable in that area”

“Thanks” Cosette said “But, let’s make something clear” she turned, suddenly serious “Whether or not I’m a fatshionista, which I don’t think I totally am but that’s not the point, it is not a justification for social validity as a fat person, as it wouldn't be my metabolism or heritage or anything else. Everyone deserves to be validated just for the fact of existing, we don’t need excuses or reasons.”

“Does that count for girls with small boobs?” Éponine smiled shyly “I know fatphobia is a whole thing on its own and I’m not the one to speak but…”

“The body positivity movement is for everybody” Cosette smiled “Which is something everyone preaches but not everyone respects. Whatever happened between you and your body is completely relevant and you deserve as much validation as the next person.”

They smiled at each other and, when they both received positive answers to their texts, they started planning what they’d say to the triumvirate as soon as they arrived.

And as Éponine listened to Cosette’s great ideas, she cursed all those songs with female singers bashing other girls in order to get a guy. She cursed all those movies about girls who planned how to put their “opposites” down, to feel validated in the eyes of society. She cursed all those sitcoms where self-confidence issues in girls were played as the punch line of a joke. She cursed how media made cis-het love triangles, so when there were two guys in love with the same girl and one got rejected, he blamed the girl; and when it was two girls in love with the same guy, the rejected girl blamed the other girl. She looked at Cosette smiling at her and promised that, no matter how hard it was, between her and Cosette and Marius, she was not going to be one of those girls. Not anymore.  

**Author's Note:**

> As I said in the beginning, Cosette's journey is extremely based on my own (with some differences and licences because Cosette is amazing and I'm not), including that guy's insult (which happened to me twice so far, as it did Cosette). All the things she wonders are things I have wondered myself at some point of my life, so if something felt offensive to you, I apologize, I tried to be as honest as possible with my own issues but I don't want to stomp over other people's issues either, so let me know if it bothers you somehow. The same thing goes for Éponine's issues, which are based on what we were discussing and what gave this fic a reason to exist.  
> I wanted to include and represent more than just cis women, and more than just these kinds of bodies, so I added Bahorel as a trans woman and Musichetta as an amputee. I am not as confident to talk about these subjects as I was with the others (or with Cosette's), so if there's something disrespectful or plain wrong, please let me know. Please.  
> If you want to find out more about Cosette's comment on validity as a fat person I highly recommend [this article](http://everydayfeminism.com/2015/03/12-good-fatty-archetypes/) and if you want to read more about Bahorel's comment on eating disorders in trans folks, I recommend [this article](http://everydayfeminism.com/2015/03/trans-folks-eating-disorders/), both by Everyday Feminism.  
> The "large and in charge" line is obviously an homage to the great Latrice Royale.  
> This fic is un'beta-ed so all mistakes are my own.  
> I made a photoset illustrating this fic [here](http://starberry-cupcake.tumblr.com/post/113145067390/my-body-is-home-a-fic-written-for-international), with Crystal Kay as Éponine and Denise Bidot as Cosette.


End file.
